Five Minutes to Midnight
by Morgan72uk
Summary: They had both been behaving as though they had all the time in the world. As though the history and chemistry between them would somehow sort itself out – or not." Could Jen and Gibbs be about to run out of time?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Five Minutes to Midnight

Author: Morgan72uk

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I definitely shouldn't be doing this... sorry.

A/N - so, this was an idea I had for a West Wing fic years ago - that I never got around to writing. And then I realised it might just work for a Jibbs fic as well. I think it might be a little over-dramatic, but you kind of have to go with the mood and it's been bugging me. So...

**Five Minutes to Midnight**

The Director of NCIS stood in the centre of MTAC, still reeling from the information she'd been given. She'd cleared the room to receive the message which had been coded for her eyes only and now, standing here she felt incredibly alone – burdened by the weight of what she knew and what it meant.

"What do you need me to do?" She asked the figure on the screen. At her question his mouth quirked up into a smile, but his eyes were tired.

"You don't know how much I wish there was something you could do." The Secretary of the Navy looked over his shoulder, nodding to a figure in the background. "They're moving me now – they'll be with you in a few minutes. You need to follow the procedure – until we know more about what's happening."

For a moment she wanted to ask him if this was a drill, knew he'd never tell her even if she asked. But she knew it wasn't a drill – if they were very lucky it was a false alarm, a chance to see how vulnerable they were in time to fix it, before next time. But she'd been watching the intel for the last few days and she wasn't at all sure they were going to be lucky.

"The President is on the plane, we've gone to DEFCON-3. I need you somewhere safe Jenny – you are one of the few people who's seen all the intelligence."

She had a card in her purse that, in the event of an emergency like this, granted her access to a secure location. Normally she would insist that she needed to ride out the crisis in MTAC, but she knew what he was telling her. The information in her head, the intelligence she'd seen meant that she didn't have a choice about this. Though her every instinct called out to her to stay, to not leave her agency and the people within it.

"I have to go now – God speed." She nodded; not able to speak for fear her voice would tremble and betray her.

The screen went blank and she blinked, alone in the dark with who the hell knew what coming for them. Tomorrow there would be accusations and enquiries; but first they had to make it through the night.

Squaring her shoulders she crossed the room to one of the terminals and brought up a programme she'd hoped never to have to use.

* * *

Gibbs was doing his best not to listen to the banter of his team, though it was getting increasingly difficult and he knew that he was about 60 seconds from intervening, or at least slapping DiNozzo on the back of the head. The atmosphere had been tense for days, though for once he wasn't the cause. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on, the Director and the intelligence analysts had been holed up in MTAC for so long he was actually thinking about dragging her away for some food this evening – or at least bringing a meal to her office.

But the sight of three men in dark suits – unmistakably secret service – following Cynthia towards the Director's office drove every other thought away. He wasn't the only one to notice; DiNozzo observing, "well, that can't be good." He got to his feet to find out what was happening but before he could make a move the lights went dark across the bullpen and an alarm started to sound.

They'd tested this protocol – but never instituted it without warning and he looked around him at the surprised faces of his team and others. "Get moving!" He snapped, shattering the silence. He told himself it was a drill, but his gaze drifted back towards Jen's office and he knew it wasn't; he took the stairs two at a time.

Stepping through the outer office doors he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the Director packing up Cynthia's belongings as her assistance protested that she wasn't leaving and the secret service looked on.

"Cynthia," Jen's voice broke as she pressed a coat into her assistant's hands. "Please, go home." The young woman opened her mouth but instead of arguing some more she simply nodded and headed for the door – casting one last look at her boss before she left.

"Jen, what's going on?"

"Director," she looked over at the secret service agent who had spoken, "we don't have much time."

"I need a few moments." She gestured for Gibbs to follow her into the office and pushed the door closed behind them, leaning heavily against it for a moment.

"Jen?" He repeated, concerned by the tautness of her expression, by the way she'd sent Cynthia away.

It had been hard enough to face Cynthia, knowing that she was about to be whisked away to safety and that there was no place for her loyal assistant. But now Jethro was here and the currents were far deeper. She took a breath – avoiding looking him in the eye.

"I can't tell you too much," she said, "but you need to send your team home – tell them to make sure they are with their lovers, family, friends – just in case."

"If there's a threat we should be out there, trying to…" She wasn't surprised at his response, that he'd want to investigate – follow the evidence.

"We are, we have been. But we're out of time." She looked up at him then, her eyes begging him to understand. Precious seconds trickled away as they watched each other – the words there, but neither of them brave enough to speak them outloud. At last she pushed herself away from the door and headed for her desk, "go home Jethro."

"And where will you be, Director?" On a different day the use of her title might have stung – but there was no bitterness in his tone and it leant her a strength that she needed right now.

"Sec Nav wants me moved to somewhere secure – our visitors are here to escort me. If there were any other way…"

"Get your things," when she hesitated he said, "I'm not kidding Jen – you need to leave, now."

"I could stay – monitor things from MTAC. It won't make any difference if…" she couldn't finish that sentence, but he was already shaking his head.

"I'll put you in the car myself if I have to."

"I don't think that will be necessary," she picked up a few things from her desk, set them down again when she realised that she wouldn't need them where she was going. Her thoughts were racing – all the things she should have said and done tugging at her. Her courage almost failed her until she turned and found him staring at her, his eyes soft.

"Jethro," he placed a finger to her lips and she stopped dead at the contact, the sound of her heartbeat deafening her to anything else. Right then she didn't need to say anything – even if she could have found the words. She knew her expression was naked, everything stripped away apart from this. And she knew he knew what she would have said, if he'd allowed her.

The tap at the door startled them and she stepped away, shivering at the sudden lack of contact, "come in," she said - knowing her voice quivered with emotion.

"Director – if we're going to make it we need to leave now." She nodded, not brave enough to look at Gibbs.

"I'm ready," she felt a hand at the small of her back, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment at the contact as he guided her out of the door.

She paused for a moment – looking over the balcony down at the bullpen; there were far too many agents still there – including all of Gibbs' team. "I'll see to it," he told her and she nodded, trusting him to do what was necessary.

"You need to seal the doors to MTAC," she said. "The grey team are in there already, they understand what is expected of them."

"I'll walk you to the elevator,"

"Don't." It was hard enough to leave him like this – with all the emotions she'd spent years keeping at bay suddenly in danger of overpowering her. But the longer they left it the harder it was going to be and she wanted to remember him here, like this.

He nodded once and she saw his hands tighten on the railing in front of him, his knuckles white from the pressure of his grip. "Take care," she whispered, nodding to the secret service agent at her side and taking a first step towards the elevator.

She wasn't prepared for the way his hand snaked out to grip her wrist, his fingers sliding down over her hand, their palms pressing together, the fit perfect. She didn't stop walking and he didn't try to hold onto her – her hand stretched back, until only their fingertips made contact and then finally the distance was too great and the hands fell away. She risked a quick glance over her shoulder and saw that he hadn't moved, wasn't even looking over at her. She blinked back tears and kept walking.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - thanks for the reviews. I think the story is far too intense to leave it too long before updating

**Part 2**

He stood in the shadows of MTAC – it was where he'd come as soon as he was sure Jen had safely left the building. He'd brushed past his team, ignoring their questions as he retrieved the code. Needing to fulfil the task she'd left him before he did anything else.

His Marine training told him never to leave a man behind but looking around the room he knew that he was about to ignore that, had no choice but to ignore it. Though he was going to at least look them in the eye as he did it.

"Agent Gibbs?" He stepped out of the shadows – greeting the senior analyst – a man he'd known for years. "Did you get the Director out of the building?"

"Just a little while ago; the secret service are moving her to a secure location." He made sure his voice carried. "I'm here to seal the doors."

"It's all right Jethro," he nodded – though it wasn't really. "Good luck," as he entered the code that would seal them in there for the duration of the crisis he couldn't help but think it was ironic that he was the one they were wishing luck.

When he returned his team was still in the bullpen, still looking slightly bewildered and as though they thought there was something they ought to be doing. He understood that feeling only too well. Abby was with them, she had Bert under one arm and she looked as though she was trying not to cry. When she saw him she stifled a sob and hurtled into his arms.

"What's happening, where's the Director?" He rubbed her back soothingly,

"The President and Joint Chiefs need her - she's somewhere safe," he told her, kissing her gently on the cheek before relinquishing his hold on her; wishing he'd been able to send her with Jen. He looked over at the others, "McGee – phone your family, don't say too much, check in with them."

"Boss?"

"Just do it." As the young agent reached for his cell phone Gibbs glanced over at Tony – seeing the moment of envy in his expression. "You staying or going DiNozzo?"

"Staying," he gave a rueful grin and put his arm around Abby. "Nowhere I'd rather be." It was probably just a little truer than he wanted to admit – but Gibbs acknowledged him with a short nod and turned his attention to Ziva.

"You want me to try to get you on a plane?" For a moment she looked torn but then her gaze travelled over the rest of the team.

"That is not necessary." He was relieved, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to make it happen if she had said yes, but he was willing to try.

"Abby," he began gently but she shook her head, pigtails flying and tightened her grip on Bert. He couldn't finish the question anyway. She was staying. They were all staying.

He looked up at the sound of the elevator and wasn't surprised when Ducky stepped out onto the floor. "I've sent Mr Palmer home," he announced "and mother's playing Bridge. I just hope she doesn't have a good hand."

Gibbs almost smiled – wondered if Jen would forgive him for failing to send any of his team home, whether she would even know about the transgression. "How bad is it Jethro?"

"The Director's been moved, I doubt they'd take that precaution easily and she wouldn't go unless..." Ducky patted him gently on the shoulder.

"You got her into the car, that's what matters." But it wasn't.

For a moment all he could think about was the touch of her hand to his and the sensation of her fingertips slipping out of his grasp. He was trying not to think about the time they'd spent fighting and mistrusting each other – the time he'd wasted being angry with her. But he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he'd let her slip away all over again.

* * *

His team was keeping themselves busy by looking at cold cases. They were sitting in a circle in the bullpen, throwing ideas around, looking for situations where advances in technology could give them a break-through. The TV screens around them relayed news of the current crisis and every so often one of them would glance over; but they kept working, kept pretending that this wasn't happening. Making it through as long as they were together. He was the one who'd had to walk away.

So now he was watching them from the catwalk. From the place where he'd said goodbye to Jen – cradling a cup of coffee as though it might be his last – which he supposed it might be.

He was marginally surprised when he found DiNozzo at his side. Tony didn't say anything – just leant over the railing, mirroring his pose. He let the silence stretch for as long as he could stand it, "you got something to tell me DiNozzo?"

"Abby thinks she might have a lead on a case from 1976," was the offering. He looked over at DiNozzo, knowing that his expression was forbidding. But for once Tony didn't even blink – in fact he was looking down at the bullpen, his attention on the others. "Just about everyone I care about is here right now," he said. "How crazy is that?"

He was pretty sure the question was rhetorical. But in fact he didn't know that it was crazy. Right now he could almost envy DiNozzo, but it wouldn't do either of them any good to say so.

"You let her go," Tony observed - and it wasn't a question. Gibbs flexed his fingers and didn't dispute the point. He'd let her go once before and had no choice in the matter then either. He didn't need to hear how they'd wasted chances, wasted time. It was painfully obvious that they had both been behaving as though they had all the time in the world, as though the history and chemistry between them would somehow sort itself out – or not. Which was ridiculous given their jobs, the close calls they'd both experienced over the last three years.

"Didn't have a choice."

"We always have a choice, boss." He tried very hard not to hear the sadness in Tony's voice.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - thanks for the reviews. And er - about the door, sorry - I couldn't resist.

**Part 3**

But he couldn't stay out of the fray forever. An hour later he was sitting at his desk, listening to the team as they threw ideas around about the case they'd picked up. He wasn't participating much, working on some of the paperwork that had been building up – still keeping his distance. But Abby had settled herself on the floor beside his desk, within touching distance and he was pretending not to notice the worried glances she directed his way every so often.

When his cell phone rang the conversation going on around him stopped dead.

"Gibbs,"

"It's over," she said quietly. "I'll be heading back to DC in a few minutes. The President is on his way back to the White House."

"How long until you get here?" At his words DiNozzo cheered, correctly assuming that she wouldn't be coming back unless everything was OK. Abby looked over at him and at his slight nod she whooped and got to her feet, kissing Ducky on the cheek. Tony spun an astonished looking Ziva around before he caught sight of her expression and hastily backed away. But the sounds of celebration carried.

"I'll be about an hour. Where are you Jethro?"

"At the office – we had a breakthrough on a case."

"What case?" Her tone told him that it would be best not to attempt to dissemble right now.

"It's a cold case – from '76, Abs found something."

"Of course she did – the question is, why was she looking in the first place?" He heard her sigh, "send them home Jethro – for real this time. The case has waited this long, a few more hours won't make much difference."

"OK,"

"And go with them. When I get back to HQ I don't expect to find you there."

"Planning on getting any rest yourself Director?"

"Eventually." He knew better than to push her further and even he could work out that this was not the moment for the more personal conversation they might need to have. He wasn't sure he was looking forward to that, he was hardly good at talking – definitely a man who preferred to let his actions speak for him. "I have to go. I'm sure I'll see you soon." Her tone had softened and he knew he wasn't the only one thinking about what they had and hadn't said.

"Count on it." It was as close to a promise as either of them would get and he almost smiled because they did have another chance – though surely they'd pushed their luck far enough.

He snapped the phone shut without saying more, determined not to say goodbye to her now that she was on her way back. When he looked up everyone was watching him. "Abs – the Director says 'good work.' She'll be here in an hour; go home, get some rest."

* * *

Jen Shepard closed her phone and ran her thumb over her palm. Her eyes closed and for a moment she let herself remember his touch, the whisper of his fingertips against her skin. She'd repeated the gesture more than once over the last few hours – the memory offering the comfort she'd needed in the midst of the crisis.

She hadn't let herself think too much about what had passed between them, or what it meant. There had been far too many other things to worry about, there were still too many things to worry about. But now she had no activity to hide behind, at least not for the time it would take to travel back to DC; nothing to think about but what she was going to do about Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

"Director Shepard, we're ready." She roused herself to give a sharp nod to the agent who had appeared at her side. Her gaze slid across the tarmac to the place where the sharp blades of the helicopter rotated; waiting to carry her back to DC, her agency and the man she'd once given up.

It was a few hours before dawn when a dark car with Government plates slid into a quiet street and pulled up outside a large house. Another car – equally dark and also with Government plates waited for it. Two men got out from the vehicles, conversed for a minute before returning to the vehicle that had just arrived and opening the back door.

She wasn't surprised to be told that Agent Gibbs was waiting for her, or that he'd supervised the sweep of her house – which was secure. She barely acknowledged the news that her detail was keeping a car outside tonight; under the circumstances she'd expected her personal security to be tightened. But she'd hoped for a little longer before coming face to face with Gibbs.

He was sitting on the steps outside the front door, a coffee cup in his hand. He looked up at her approach, nodding a greeting to the agent at her shoulder. "Need a refill for that?" She asked, glancing towards the cup as she opened the door and held it open for him.

"Got any bourbon?"

"You know where it is."

He poured the drinks, listening to the quiet murmur of her voice as she conversed with her security detail, finally hearing the sound of the front door closing and holdong a glass out to her as she stepped into the study. She paused to turn on a lamp before accepting it and he understood her reluctance to stay in the darkness tonight. "Did you go home at all Jethro?"

"I worked on the boat for a while, thought you might want some company."

"I don't know what I want," she said the words so quietly he wasn't sure he was supposed to have heard them. But it wasn't exactly a surprise that given some time to think and with the knowledge that the world wasn't about to end, she'd come to her senses. Or come up with a whole list of reasons why they couldn't just tumble headlong into a relationship. He decided to let her off the hook – for now.

"So, who saved the day?"

"It was a joint effort," she thought about what she knew, what she wished she didn't know and what she couldn't tell him. "Just a little too close for comfort. Next time..." she shrugged, hating that she was already thinking about that possibility.

"You need some rest," he told her gently. "It's been a long night."

"A lot's happened," she met his gaze and they both knew she wasn't just talking about the security alert. "I could use some time to process it."

He'd needed to see her – hadn't wanted the first time they came face to face to be in her office, with other people around them. But there was time now, he knew what he wanted and he wouldn't push her; he could bide his time. Only not indefinitely.

She swirled the liquid around in the glass, watching as he finished his drink in a long swallow. She didn't know if she could do this again; she was terrified that they'd find out it had just been the intensity of the moment. Or that she'd make him unhappy. But she wasn't sure she wanted him to go.

He seemed reluctant to leave; though after a moment of thought he turned down the refill she offered. Instead he told her a little about the cold case the team had started to look into. And still they lingered – neither of them ready to make a definitive move to saying goodnight.

When she set her empty glass down on the desk he knew he should call it a night and let her get some rest. "I'll see you later," he told her, knowing how lucky they were to have the chance for one more try, to have a 'later' to look forward to. She followed him out into the hall, reaching for the door. "You'll lock the door after I leave?"

"Goodnight Jethro."

And he should have left then.

He reached for her hand – echoing their brief touch from hours before – only this time she wasn't walking away and as he pressed their palms together she looked up at him. And still he might have left, except that when he lifted their entwined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to their fingertips she sighed softly, her eyes closing for a moment as emotions washed over her face.

He breathed her name as he reached for her – drawing her towards him and pressing her back into the door. Her lips parted under his, their kiss soft, slow, full of yearning. With some reluctance he pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers, heart pounding, wanting her more than he'd wanted a woman in years. "I should go." But instead of releasing her he pressed his lips to her jaw, to her throat. She arched her neck to give him better access, sliding a hand up his back.

"Stay," she said, turning her head to press her lips to his palm. "I want you to stay."

He wasn't stupid enough to argue.

She let herself get swept away by him, by the unexpected intensity that sizzled through her with his every touch. Not normally the most passive of women it was surprisingly easy to let go, to let him take control – knowing that she could trust him, that tonight he needed to lead this more than she did.

But it was far from one-sided. Her touches and caresses kept pace with his, she undressed him with the same deliberation that he undressed her, pressing her lips to the skin she exposed, touching him everywhere - perhaps to convince herself that this was really happening. That all it had taken to get them here was a major incident and the threat of destruction.

His fingers curled around her thigh, raising it to his hips and she almost told him that when she'd said she had always been fond of this door she'd never expected to be doing this against it. But the thought flickered away, too insubstantial to hold onto; overwhelmed by his lips against her throat, the push of his body into hers.

She groaned, as the heat and need overtook her. All of her senses flooded with him – the sounds they were making, her legs pressed around his waist, the smell of sex and the feel of the wood against her back. She cupped his face with her hand, kissing him in time with their movements – feeling the coiling of her stomach, knowing she was close, wanting him with her.

She breathed her encouragement into his ear and he followed her demands, letting go, pushing her over the edge, following her seconds later – his body surrendering.

They leant back against the door, a tangle of limbs; their breathing too laboured to even attempt to speak. Not that he thought they had left anything to say – surely their actions had left very little left to be interpreted by mere words. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder as his hand fumbled for hers, pressing their palms together in a gesture that had taken on enormous significance in the last few hours. And felt her smile curve against his skin.

He looked down at the clothes tangled at their feet, all he wanted to do was take her to bed – to sleep. For a moment he wavered, before deciding to hell with it and pulling her up the stairs after him, quieting her instinctive protest by squeezing her hand, which was still clasped in his, and leading the way into her bedroom.

She fell asleep first, curled into his side, her arm draped over his stomach. The circles under her eyes made him wish they could spend the day in bed, but that would have to wait, they both had to be up in a couple of hours.

He was glad that the dawn was creeping ever closer. For all the things that this night had given him, he couldn't forget how close they had come to never realising how badly they wanted this second chance. How a single twist of fate could have meant that they never found their way here. And the darkness was still out there, waiting. If the occasion warranted it he knew he'd have to let her go, as he had tonight, just as he knew she would have to send him into danger. But not for the next few hours.

She stirred a little, murmuring his name. He lifted her hand from where it rested and pressed it to his lips, before slipping down in the bed to pull her closer. He was surprised that she didn't resist, when they'd been lovers before she'd been uncomfortable about being held while she slept - always seeking space and distance. But now it seemed she was more willing to accept the reassurance of another body wrapped around hers. Perhaps because she understood what it meant to be without that sense of security.

He wondered what else had changed about her. He had the chance to find out now and he suspected he was going to enjoy this particular investigation a great deal.

The End


End file.
